


Riot - August 1994

by swannkings



Series: Portrait of Imogen Swift [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hogwarts Mystery
Genre: Apparating (Harry Potter), Death Eaters, Gen, Quidditch World Cup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 17:19:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17871491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swannkings/pseuds/swannkings
Summary: After the incident in the Forbidden Forest, Imogen has taken to a quiet and isolated life, until she takes Andre up on a ticket to the 422nd Quidditch World Cup.





	Riot - August 1994

Andre had been gifted several tickets to the Quidditch World Cup and had sent another owl first thing the morning of the final match. He had been trying to convince Imogen to spend the entire week at the cup with him, some of his Quidditch buddies, and a couple of school friends, but she’d declined until the last minute. As a teenager, Imogen would have jumped at the chance to stay at the campgrounds and cheer her team on with her boots caked in mud, but time had dampened her enthusiasm. Within three hours of accepting the invitation, Andre showed up at her front door with a gleaming smile and a rucksack on his back. It was a quick and queasy Apparation to the crowded and churning grounds. Andre lead Imogen to a generously sized tent with all manner of amenities.

“You remember Patrick and Agatha,” he’d said, and she nodded toward the vaguely familiar faces she thought she may have met once during a drunken party years before. Andre then introduced her to a slew of muscled men and women in jerseys. Imogen could hardly get a word in before someone asked what she did for work, leaving a momentary lull in the conversation.

“I work for the Ministry,” she said.

“Oh,” said Patrick, or maybe Kent. “Andre said you were a professional dueler.”

“I was, but an injury kind of made it difficult. Fun while it lasted.”

Andre caught her eye, a curious look on his face.

“Imogen was also a chaser on the Slytherin house team during school,” he saved.

Another one of the group gave an obnoxious chuckle. “I heard Gryffindor’s knocked out your record then.”

Imogen gave a curt smile and replied, “Must be because I’m not there.”

She spent the next few hours wandering the grounds, picking up only two over priced souvenirs. When it came time for the match to begin, she found her way to the stadium and the seats reserved for Andre and his crew. The entirety of the match was hot and too loud, making Imogen’s skin itch. She had hoped she would enjoy being out with a friend, doing something besides sitting at home watching Muggle television or going to work, but Andre was busy and Imogen was left exhausted trying to keep up.

When the bell tolled the score and the height of celebration began, Imogen left the stadium and headed straight for the tent, bypassing the drunk witches and wizards, and the children delirious on the late hour. It wasn’t but a mere half hour before Andre found her alone in the tent, repacking her rucksack.

“Leaving already?”

She smiled sheepishly, “Sorry. I have work in the morning.”

Andre sat beside her on the plush sofa, kicking his feet onto the thin table where her belongings lay. “The entire Ministry is here, Imogen, I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only one taking a sick day.”

When she didn’t reply, he nudged her with his elbow. “You know, I ran into Charlie and Bill earlier. Have you seen them since school? Bill has an earring - an  _ earring _ ! He’s gone wild.”

The noise outside seemed to amplify.

“That so?”

“I asked them to come by later, maybe-”

“No, Andre. Thank you, really, but I can’t stay.”

“Imogen-”

Andre was cut off again by a shrill scream from outside the tent. One of his friends, Bertrand?, shoved through the flaps, breathing so quickly Imogen thought he might pass out.

“There’s… a riot,” he huffed. “Some weird… masks…. Should go.”

Imogen and Andre exchanged looks and both left the tent, Imogen keeping her wand in hand. Across the field they could see burning and hundreds of fans fleeing toward the thick wood beyond. She, Andre, and Neil ran toward the commotion, dodging terrified herds of people. At the center of it all was a horrific sight. A group of dark cloaked magical folk, shooting off spells into the crowd. Imogen’s breath caught when she saw the family stunned and writhing, but her heart stopped when she saw the masks the perpetrators wore - the same as the person from the forest. Someone yanked hard on her wrist, wrenching her still aching shoulder back.

“Imogen, we need to go!”

Without warning the world turned and swirled and pinched altogether and was done as quick as it had begun. Imogen bent over, sick. Her knees buckled beneath her as she caught her breath. There was no more noise, no people. When she looked up she didn’t recognize her surroundings, save for Andre who only stood facing out into the darkness, toward a green glow on the horizon.


End file.
